


We Have More Questions, If Anything

by LadyLoquacity



Series: LJ Kink Meme Fills [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Family, Gen, Mycroft's a lovely son actually, Post Reichenbach, all the feels and I'm not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoquacity/pseuds/LadyLoquacity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19351.html?thread=114921879#t114921879">kinkmeme prompt</a>:</p><p>Because she prefers to live in isolation nowadays, Mummy Holmes has no access to newspapers or television.</p><p>The task of telling her her youngest son has jumped off a roof falls to Mycroft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have More Questions, If Anything

Violet Holmes sat small and quiet, in the drawing room of her draughty house. Most days she chose to sit in the bay window, looking out over the well kept garden. Today she was joined by her eldest son; a worried, drawn man, named Mycroft.

He reached for her hand as she stared at the flowerbeds. "Mother," he began. "Mother, I'm here about Sherlock."

She slowly turned her head, sad and blue eyes meeting his. "What on earth has the silly boy done now?" she muttered. "You were supposed to be keeping an eye on him."

Mycroft took his other hand, to wrap his mother's frail hand in both of his. "Mother, I'm sorry. He's... he's with Daddy, now. He took his own life." He pauses, waiting for her reaction, her questions. 

Violet cries. Her tears fall freely but silently. She doesn't reach for Mycroft and he does not presume his embrace will be welcomed. Her hand is still clasped between his. Hers: cold, soft, thin. His: warm and clammy with nervous energy. 

"How could you let this happen?" Violet asks, finally, once the tears have subsided. "You were meant to be watching out for him. Ensuring his safety." She turns her head to inspect the garden again. 

Mycroft takes a deep breath. "Mother, you know what he's like. Sherlock is impulsive and clever. I wasn't always able to keep up with him, but I did my best." He releases his mother's hand. It falls back into her lap, rippling the floral fabric of her skirt. He fidgets with the ring on his right hand as he continues. "His friend, his close friend, his John. Sherlock spoke to him immediately beforehand. Before he fell."

"And?" she asks quietly, her eyes now focused on a bumblebee, hovering around a flower by the window. "Do we have answers?"

"We have more questions, if anything," Mycroft says with a sigh. "He urged John to believe the lies, to believe the story that he was a fake. We can't work out his reasons, not yet, but not for one second has John had anything less than complete faith in Sherlock. He loved him."

"Good, good," his mother mutters. "I should like to meet this John, this person with my boy in their heart. You'll arrange it, Mycroft?"

"Yes, mother," Mycroft agrees, standing up to leave. He rests his hand on her shoulder, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

He will tell her again tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism are always welcome - if you spot a typo or mistake, just let me know, I'll get it fixed quick sharp.


End file.
